Doctor Visit

To my surprise, my doctor didn't say word one about my weight. I was expecting my annual nagging, but she said nothing. She congratulated me that my blood pressure, which was borderline last year, was way down. I told her that was a big duh. Last year, when I went in for my annual exam, I was right in the middle of some extremely stressful life events, and it only made sense my blood pressure was elevated. I was working too many hours, and had family members in the hospital. I was stressed beyond belief, and there was no end in sight. I had big economic problems looming on the horizon, and it was just a tough, tough time. I told the doctor at the time that my life chaos was the root cause of my elevated blood pressure at the time, but she didn't really believe me.

I don't know if my weight was up or down from last year, because I didn't ask. Truthfully, I didn't want to know. Next year, if my weight is measurably down, I'll ask. Then I will care. Then it might actually matter to me. Right now, I simply don't want to know.

She surprised me and told me she wanted to do a blood sugar test. Fortunately, I'd deliberately skipped breakfast, so she could get an accurate reading. Her request sent me into a mini panic, wondering if all the peeing I was doing wasn't because of the extra water I'd been drinking on account of my diet, and was a sign of something ominous.

The nurse stuck my finger. I waited for the word of doom.

Panic canceled. My blood sugar reading, according to the doctor, was "perfect."

"See you next year" were my doctor's final words.

Those words were the nicest thing anybody has said to me all week.